


Anything

by banshee_in_the_dark



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Breastfeeding, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Family Fluff, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 07:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1771471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banshee_in_the_dark/pseuds/banshee_in_the_dark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Future One-Shot: A moment between Bellamy, Clarke and their son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything

Demanding whimpers and wails greet Bellamy as he walks in the tent, mixed with Clarke’s sweet cooing noises, a face splitting grin lightening up his features automatically.

“What’s going on with my favorite guy?” he asks, crossing the short distance to the bed and kneeling next to Clarke, smiling down to the fussing baby and gently taking one of his wildly flailing little hands in his much bigger one.

“He woke up crossed from his morning nap and doesn’t want to wait two minutes for mommy to change his diaper before she feeds him,” Clarke playfully scolds her son, expertly removing the wet cloth that passes as a diaper and cleaning him with a rag damp with warm water. She tilts her head to the side, eyes blue and shinning, smiling. “Hi,” she whispers.

“Hi yourself,” Bellamy smirks, his lips finding hers easily.

The quick peck quickly escalates into a full blown kiss, teeth and tongue and lips battling for dominance as it so often happens with them, before Clarke submits to his ravishment with a pleasurable little moan. Anyone seeing them might think they’ve spent a long time apart, that this is a lovers’ reunion greatly anticipated, but the truth is they just saw each other not two hours ago.

A loud whine from the infant, protesting being ignored no doubt, breaks them apart.

“Okay, I’m coming,” Clarke says, blowing a raspberry in the baby’s soft belly before moving a way to find a clean diaper. “You got him?” she asks as an afterthought as she stands up.

“I got him,” he assures her needlessly. His face turns serious for a moment as he looks down at his son. The fussing has developed into earsplitting howls and he’s shaking his small balled fists and kicking his little legs angrily. “Hey,” he pokes a finger to the baby’s chest, softly, just to get his attention. “You wanna calm down for a sec and let your mother change you.”

The effect is instant. Griffin stops crying and whining, his dark eyes identical to his father’s open wide staring up at Bellamy like he’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“That’s a good boy,” Bellamy smirks, bopping the baby on his button of a nose and getting a toothless smile in return that makes his heart clench.

Clarke finishes changing the now calm baby, cooing softly as she sits down cross-legged on the bed with the child in her arms. Bellamy takes a pillow and places it over her lap and under the baby, so that her arm doesn’t have to bear the brunt of his weight as she feeds him. Satisfied with the arrangement, and with Griffin becoming increasingly more agitated, Clarke lowers the scooped neckline of her shirt and frees her breast, offering it to the starving baby.

Bellamy goes to the table pushed against the far side of the tent and picks up an empty cup, filling it with cool fresh water from his canteen he collected right before coming to the tent. He hands the cup to Clarke who chugs it down gratefully, shooting him a quick thankful smile. She always gets incredibly thirsty while breastfeeding, the least he can do is be there and pour her some goddamn water when she’s feeding their child.

He gets these moments when he actually has to stop whatever he’s doing or thinking and check he’s not dreaming or anything and confirm that yes, _this_ is his life, it’s real. He’s on the ground, he has people looking up at him, actually following his leadership, depending on him like no one except his sister ever has, and he works from dawn till dusk (and even after that when he’s on watch) to make sure all those people are safe, to deserve their respect and loyalty. And it’s all because of Clarke.

He loves her in ways he never thought he could love anyone. He loves her in the mornings when they’re all business and jump out of bed to start their duties. He loves her when she buts heads with him within the privacy of the dropship when she doesn’t agree with a particular course of action he’s pushing for. He loves her when he leaves the choice up to her and doesn’t care if it makes him look weak in the eyes of the hundred (it doesn’t) because he trusts she’ll make the right call for the right reasons, and if she doesn’t he loves her just the same. He loves her when she’s too tired to even talk to him after caring for her patients but makes the effort anyway, and he loves her when she’s so thrilled she saved a life or found a new use for a plant that can make their lives easier she drags him to their tent in the middle of the day, unconcerned with the rest of the camp knowing exactly what they’re doing.

He loved her when he knew he shouldn’t, because it would complicate things. He loved her when she thought she loved someone else, and when she started seeing him in a new light, blushing whenever he caught her staring at him.

He loved her when after nearly getting themselves killed she followed him to his tent under the astonished eyes of their people, and stayed the night, and never left.

He loved her when he found her crying outside the wall _without a gun_ , and she told him she was pregnant and scared. He loved her when she gave birth to their child, screaming instructions to Raven and Octavia at the top of her lungs, with a fucking hurricane beating down on them. He loved her, and he told her so for the first time, when they cried together holding their perfect newborn in their arms.

He’s in love with her, and sometimes it feels like it’s too good to be true, like he’ll wake up any second, and he’ll be back at the Ark breathing filtered air, eating synthetic food, lonely and bitter, and this chaotic paradise will just a dream.

He’d much rather not wake up.

A pained gasp from Clarke snaps him out of his quiet contemplation of the woman that saved his life in more ways she can ever imagine. “What is it?” Bellamy frowns worriedly, sitting beside her on the bed.

“I think his teeth might be cutting soon, he just bit me,” Clarke offers, her hand stroking the baby’s dark hair lovingly.

“Kinky,” Bellamy teases, distinctly remembering a time when _he_ was the one doing the biting and she certainly wasn’t complaining.

Clarke sighs, rolling her eyes at him. “Really? I’m feeding your child and telling you about a monumental step in his development and you go straight to a sex joke.”

“What can I say?” he smirks wolfishly, plants a kiss that soothes the tight line of her pursed lips. “I’m a delinquent,” he breathes against her, feeling her lips curl up.

“Could this delinquent please give me some more water?”

“Anything you want, Princess.”

**Author's Note:**

> This sort of happened while I was babysitting my godson and thoughts of bellarke with a baby wouldn't leave me alone. Hopefully you liked it? Please let me know!


End file.
